


tessellation, variegation, and other synonyms

by kokko (bwoozi)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Aliens, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwoozi/pseuds/kokko
Summary: Soonyoung wonders about a lot of things. Wonwoo, evidently, has his own curiosities.





	tessellation, variegation, and other synonyms

**Author's Note:**

> henlo! i wrote this in a Very Short Amount Of Time
> 
> im supposed to be doing my fic for soonwoonet’s push and pull fic exchange, but i felt really uninspired, so i guess this happened ??? i spewed it out of my word chute??? it helped a lot! i have a lot of motivation now!
> 
> this was an au originally discussed in soonwoonet! i thought about it last night and suddenly wanted to write it lmao fhsjhsks so BIG creds to annie (dreamsofanotherreality on ao3), katsu (nikospyrr on ao3), and amber for the ideas!!! ily all and sorry @ all of swn for dropping fic on you without warning ajfhdjfhd
> 
> sorry about the minimal context for anything, this is really weird. fuc. i hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

It’s not like he came to him in a U.F.O or anything. Though maybe it would've been easier to digest that way.

In truth, he just showed up one day, because life is unpredictable and amazing and Wonwoo would be too guilty throwing some crazy kid who claims to be an alien out on the street. He’ll admit to not believing it at first. At the end of the day, though, there’s just no explaining those blinding arrays of lights that plagued Wonwoo’s backyard the first few months Soonyoung stayed with him, the seven foot tall figures with unrecognizable forms and beady eyes leering at him through the window. Somehow, they weren’t scary, not after Wonwoo spied Soonyoung speaking with one of them in the yard casually one night, still clad in the boxers Wonwoo had lent him and the bunny slippers he’d found in the hall closet.

There’s a level of comprehension that humans are capable of, even when you’re an alien in a human’s body, that just isn’t quite enough for Soonyoung to be able to explain much—his mouth can no longer form the sounds of his previous language, his hands are no longer coordinated to visually express much of anything, and his eyes only see seven colors, for God’s sake. Soonyoung knows his old planet best but can’t find it in his fleshy, brain-piloted vessel to recall any of it. And that’s okay. From what he can express, Wonwoo understands, or at least tries to.

He wonders about a lot of things, Soonyoung does. Wonwoo has his own curiosities.

One of the first questions Wonwoo asked Soonyoung, a week or so after meeting him, was “How’d you come up with ‘Soonyoung?’”

“I don’t know, it seemed right.” He’d shrugged in return. “How’d you come up with ‘Wonwoo?’”

\---

“What are these things? _Trees?”_ His tone of voice is hilarious—incredulous, even. He has one hand on his hip and the other gesturing towards Wonwoo’s garden, frantic and almost accusatory. Wonwoo is filling up a watering bucket at the faucet on the side of the house.

“No, Soonyoung. They’re vegetables.” Wonwoo seriously wonders how much Soonyoung actually takes in from all the National Geographic shows he watches and all the books he borrows (steals) from the library.

“Why don’t you feed them?”

“They don’t need food.” He explains, patiently as always. He steps over the threshold to the garden, soil dark and soft beneath his shoes. Soonyoung glares at him from the tomatoes. “They just need water. They make their food from the sun.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung says simply. “You could’ve just said photosynthesis, then.”

Wonwoo teaches Soonyoung how to water the plants, hand heavy on top of his while he holds the watering can, before he retires inside and rereads the section on farming and plants in his second grade science textbook.

\---

Wonwoo has no way of knowing how much Soonyoung has just forgotten and how much he can’t explain, but the only way he can find some peace in the situation is to at least try and get some answers. He’s already asked where Soonyoung came from (“A planet in another solar system. But I’d explain it differently If I had the words for it…”), how he got to earth (“On a spaceship. But not those stupid disc looking things you always show me—I’ve never seen those in my life.”), and how he learned to speak (A shining moment of Soonyoung remembering something. “Data collections from a human dissection, vocabulary extraction. The specifics… I learned those by listening when I got here.”), but those are just a few of the things Wonwoo feels like he needs to know—it’s troubling because there are so many things that Soonyoung needs to know to survive, while Wonwoo’s questions are born out of pure curiosity.

He watches Soonyoung shove noodles into his mouth messily. He’s sort of gotten the hang of chopsticks—not quite, though, and Wonwoo giggles a bit into his napkin before speaking. “How did you end up in a human body?”

This is a moment where Soonyoung looks confused by the gears in his own brain turning. He finally decides on: “I don’t know, but I think they’re doing tests on me.”

“They” is ominous, but Wonwoo is used to it. He goes in with his soup spoon, slurping broth from it nonchalantly and looking at Sonyoung sympathetically. Not because of the tests, but because of the furrow in Soonyoung’s brow—there’s an obvious inability to _communicate_ there, at least not in the way that he’s used to. Wonwoo nudges his foot under the table to snap him out of it.

“Is it frustrating?”

Soonyoung sighs through a helpless smile. “Yes.”

\---

“You lied to me.”

In the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed, clay mask smeared across his face sloppily (Wonwoo just taught him about skincare), Soonyoung huffs. His lips are screwed into a pout.

A murmur of “What do you mean?” is muffled around the foam in Wonwoo’s mouth. He spits and rinses. (Soonyoung doesn’t question it. He’d just learned about dental hygiene, too.)

“Those aren’t vegetables.” Wonwoo wants to laugh at how serious he is, pointing out the window like that.

“They are most certainly vegetables, Soonyoung.” Tomatoes, cabbage, carrots, kale… Wasn’t he on the fourth grade science textbook now?

Soonyoung’s offended. “Tomatoes are _fruits,_ Wonwoo.” He slams the door on Wonwoo angrily, stomping down the hall with a shout. _“This is worse than the time you poisoned me!”_

\---

Ramen is Wonwoo’s guilty pleasure. It’s cheap, fast, and deliciously greasy—and, depending on the flavor, burns his tastebuds in the most satisfying way. It’s midnight on the night Soonyoung finds him poking around his stash, then pouring hot water over his spiciest cup noodle and letting it sit before Soonyoung has the nerve to pester Wonwoo about it.

“What’s this? Noodles?” He pokes the side of the cup experimentally, pulling his finger away upon finding that it’s hot.

“Yes—you probably won’t like them, though.” Soonyoung frowns in protest. “Did you want a snack, too?”

“No thank you.”

“Alright, then.” At this point, Wonwoo’s already torn into his ramen, nose running at the scent of it. He winces when it hits his tongue, sweat already beading at his forehead.

“Are you okay?” He places the back of his hand on Wonwoo’s cheeks—he learned that from Wonwoo, when Soonyoung had caught a cold and Wonwoo felt him for a fever. He laughs at Soonyoung’s naivety.

Wonwoo offers his cup noodles wordlessly, placing it in Soonyoung’s hands along with his pair of chopsticks. He inhales sharply in an effort to cool his tongue—the gesture makes Soonyoung’s eyes widen in fear. He takes one tiny, tentative nibble.

“It’s—” He’s coughing intensely, and Wonwoo would feel bad if it weren’t so damn _funny._ “It’s biting me! It’s _biting_ me!”

(Admittedly, it was a bit mean spirited of him. He makes up for it by holding Soonyoung tightly through his panic, not scolding him for dropping the cup and chopsticks on the floor, just shushing him and patting the short hairs at the back of his neck.)

\---

Sometimes, Soonyoung does this… thing. He’ll stand in the middle of the backyard and stare up at the sky until his fragile human neck gets all sore and stiff, and he says it’s fine, but Wonwoo rubs it anyway. Recently, Wonwoo’s in close proximity to him more often—Soonyoung seems to change as he learns more. He feels more at home, but also incredibly lonely, and finds himself snuggling into Wonwoo’s bed nearly every night, even following him into the shower from time to time. That’s where the neck rubbing happens, Wonwoo spewing empty scoldings of “you shouldn’t be outside so late” and “you should be more careful.”

Soonyoung doesn’t listen. Wonwoo wonders what he’s looking for, exactly—the lights have stopped waking Wonwoo because they’ve stopped coming in the first place. He doesn’t want to ask him about it, mostly because he worries that Soonyoung’s been abandoned.

What he wants to ask is if Soonyoung is afraid that Wonwoo will abandon him, too.

What he asks instead, thumbs grazing over his nape under the warm stream of water, is “Do you miss them?”

Soonyoung leans into the touch.

“No.”

\---

“Why do humans press their faces together like that?”

This is why Wonwoo doesn’t often take Soonyoung out in public. This is also why Wonwoo doesn’t believe in PDA.

“Because they’re in love, I guess.”

Soonyoung looks down at his feet. “Can I be in love?”

It’s not shy or self-aware in any way, just curious. Wonwoo’s not sure why he wants to hold Soonyoung’s hand so suddenly.

“Well, I don’t see why not.”

\---

Baby steps. Soonyoung can go out alone now, and Wonwoo feels comfortable moving to an office to work instead of just working at home. It’s an on-and-off sort of deal. Sometimes Wonwoo’s out every day for a week and sometimes he’s home for three weeks straight. Very few things stress Soonyoung out, and the amount of time Wonwoo spends at work is not one of them—however, when Wonwoo is at work, Soonyoung has his moments.

“Wonwoo,” He chokes into the receiver, weeping pathetically, “you have to come home. I think I’m dying.”

Wonwoo almost regrets teaching him how to use the phone. Still, there’s a tinge of worry that he can’t help feeling hearing Soonyoung so emotional. “What happened?”

“I can’t feel my foot, I sat on it and—”

“That’s normal, Soonyoung. It’ll go away in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He wonders what the other people in the office might think. Perhaps that Soonyoung is his child? “Do you want me to stay with you on the phone until it does?” Soonyoung hums shakily. Wonwoo complies.

Wonwoo clacks away on his keyboard, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder as he listens to Soonyoung’s whines dissipate into sniffles, then into laughs.

“You see?” Wonwoo grins to himself. “You’re fine. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

Soonyoung laughs despite himself, softly, something Wonwoo would describe as “loving.”

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” It's just about his foot falling asleep, but he feels a sincerity that spans much further than that.

\---

His thumb rests somewhere below Soonyoung’s right eye, hand cradling his cheek and smoothing over the bone there, hidden under the skin all bunched up in a smile. Soonyoung is fascinated by how the human body can keep a bed warm, especially shared with another, all wound up in sheets and blankets and pillows. He likes to spend entire days in bed with Wonwoo. Why make them so comfortable if only for sleeping?

“What did your species find attractive?” This is an interesting question. Wonwoo has found that, with time, they get more complex. The more complex ones are either easier to answer or easier to deny an answer to.

“It’s hard to explain because we don’t have words for their body parts.” We, not you. Their, not our. That’s new.

Still, Wonwoo doesn’t speak to him like he’s entirely human. Soonyoung would never blame him for that. “Do you find humans attractive?”

Soonyoung laughs again and Wonwoo feels it against his palm. “I find _you_ attractive.”

No one cares to ask why both of their faces flush up to their ears.

\---

“It’s called a kiss?”

Wonwoo’s other guilty pleasure is awful romantic dramas. He doesn't watch them with Soonyoung because he doesn't want to have to explain sex—when he sits Soonyoung in front of a relatively innocent show, he doesn't think he'll have to explain much. He's blushing even now, the main characters on screen mocking him with each press of their lips together.

“Oh.” Wonwoo says dumbly, meeting Soonyoung’s eyes when he glances to his side. Why is it suddenly so stressful to see Soonyoung wearing his clothes? “Um, yes.”

Soonyoung adjusts his position on the couch unceremoniously. He's careful not to sit on his feet lately. “Can we do it? Or do we have to be in love?”

Wonwoo chooses his words carefully. Do they have to be in love? “We… can.”

There's a long silence, save for the murmur of the TV, where Wonwoo just stares into Soonyoung’s eyes, purses his lips a bit. Soonyoung’s fingers find Wonwoo’s and they tangle themselves in between them just as the characters on the TV had.

Wonwoo’s face casts a shadow on Soonyoung’s when he leans in. “Wait, wait—Wonwoo, I don’t know how…”

“Just do what I do, then.”

He's careful, like he's going to hurt him or something. Sooyoung's lips are still against Wonwoo’s even when he pulls him half into his lap, leaving insistent and lingering pecks on and around his mouth. Soonyoung eventually reciprocates everything, slumping against Wonwoo and wrapping his arms around his waist as tightly as possible. It could've lasted for hours, for days. It's the first time Wonwoo wonders if time passes differently for Soonyoung. And he thinks, while deepening the kiss, “aren't we in love?”

Wonwoo has no idea what he's doing.

\---

Soonyoung furrows his brow at nothing from time to time. That's when Wonwoo anticipates the most uncomfortable questions. “What was up with the… when you put your… what's it called… in my mouth. What's that about?”

He chokes on his soda. Soonyoung just pats his back through it, like Wonwoo had done to him the first few times he tried to speak while drinking. “My _what?”_

“When you kissed me! The… tentacle thing. The one in your mouth.”

Wonwoo feels some degree of relief, but blushes hotly anyway. “Oh my God, you mean my _tongue?”_

“Yes!” Soonyoung beams, satisfied with the answer. “It was weird at first, but it kind of feels nice—”

Wonwoos’s blush turns into hysteric laughter. “I’m sorry, _tentacle?”_ He curls in on himself, hitting the table. Soonyoung chuckles, just because Wonwoo is too, but looks a bit troubled.

“We can't _all_ be human from birth, Wonwoo.” He spits finally, embarrassment evident in the quaver of his voice. Wonwoo sees the anatomy unit in Soonyoung’s current science book bookmarked the next day.

\---

Wonwoo always lays down after work if he can. Sometimes, Soonyoung lies with him. Actually, more often than not, Soonyoung lies with him, but he usually doesn't use Wonwoo as a human flashcard.

He comes in unannounced, easing himself on the bed beside Wonwoo. His fingers slowly, lightly tracing his upper arm, moving down to his forearm with a gradual drag. Initially, it's hard to make out what Soonyoung is murmuring—Wonwoo can eventually recognize “Tricep… bicep... humerus… radius… ulna…” He soon gets to phalanges, squeezing each of Wonwoo’s fingers gently before holding his hand and glancing at him for approval. Wonwoo just nods.

It takes Soonyoung almost a half hour to get through all the poignant bones and muscles. Wonwoo stares at him in awe—he's impossibly endeared to him, especially like this, all soft touching and hushed whispering.

He finishes when he's hovering inches from Wonwoo’s face, “cheekbone” said breathily, warm air tickling his nose. He presses a light kiss to said bone, or rather, the skin over it.

\---

“How come people are so afraid of dying when they do it every night?”

Wonwoo has had trouble explaining confusing things to Soonyoung before. He's learned that Soonyoung is often the confused one.

“Sleeping is different from dying, Soonyoung.”

“It is?” He cocks his head.

“Yes. You wake up after you sleep, but when you die, you don't wake up.” Wonwoo checks to make sure Soonyoung is paying attention—he is. The squirrels outside can wait, it seems. “But sometimes people die in their sleep.” He adds, swiftly returning to sweeping the foyer. He doesn't catch Soonyoung’s mortified gaze.

That night, he wakes in the middle of the night only to be startled by Soonyoung looking directly at him, eyes swollen from having stayed awake so long. Wonwoo can't think of _why_ until he recalls their conversation from earlier.

“Soonyoung,” he coos, the gentlest he can manage, “I won't die. I’m not going to die for a long time, I promise.” The fatigue sets in again and Wonwoo lets his eyes fall shut while he inches forward, snaking his arms around Soonyoung with a stretch. “And you won't either, okay? We're both healthy. We're okay. I’m okay.”

Wonwoo dozes off again. In the morning, there's a damp spot on his shoulder, right where Soonyoung had burrowed his face into in the middle of the night.

\---

As it turns out, Soonyoung is more attentive than Wonwoo had originally thought. On Wonwoo’s birthday, there's a stack of small gifts (a history novel that Soonyoung will probably want to read first, a cup of extra spicy ramen, an array of _vegetable_ seed packets, and a stuffed fox or cat, Wonwoo can't tell) laid on the coffee table, along with a card that reads “Happy 1st Birthday to a special boy!”

Wonwoo laughs, leaning down to plant a kiss on Soonyoung’s forehead. “Thank you.” He starts, Soonyoung unable to sit still while Wonwoo picks up each present and surveys it briefly. He wrings his hands excitedly when Wonwoo cracks open the binding of the book, giggles when he places the plush fox-or-cat in his lap. “I’m twenty years old, but this is so nice, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

“I know, but it's your first birthday where I’m with you, so I thought this was the best one. And this card has a cute red thing on it.” It’s Elmo. God, Wonwoo cannot stop smiling. “Open it up,” He urges, leaning closer to Wonwoo and studying his expression carefully.

Soonyoung’s handwriting is cute. It almost looks like Wonwoo’s—He wonders when exactly he learned how to write.

“I love you too, Soonyoung.”

\---

As much as he enjoyed doing it, Wonwoo doesn't miss being able to water the vegetables. It makes him much happier to watch Soonyoung do it from the window over the kitchen sink. He leans over it even if he doesn't have any dishes to wash, Soonyoung too immersed in his chore to notice Wonwoo in the window.

When he comes inside, he forgets to take his shoes off and tracks mud through the kitchen, but Wonwoo still readily accepts his arms around his waist and his lips on his chin, the crown of Soonyoung’s head tucking itself under it. Wonwoo can feel how the sun has warmed it. Soonyoung is undoubtedly human, not that that ever mattered.

“I love you,” he says for the fifth time that morning. It's for no reason at all but he still sounds more sure about it than anything else.

No clarifcation needed.


End file.
